


Intertwine

by reversetheuniverse



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, there's some angst in it but don't worry i promise it has a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:39:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reversetheuniverse/pseuds/reversetheuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve lived right across from each other, a window-pane away. How could they not have noticed each other by now? She really needs to start paying more attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intertwine

A crash beckons Riley towards her bay window on an ardent, winter evening in New York, and she finds something she doesn’t expect.

“What the heck are you doing?!” she yells out her bay window, the chill stinging her cheeks. The source of the noise, a strange young man, struggles to gain his footing, but soon his feet are planted firmly on her fire escape, vivid-blue eyes wide.

“Whoops!” he exclaims, dusting the snow off his pants. “I was looking for my friend. You’re not him, are you?” Riley shakes her head.

“Afraid not. Did you fall from the fire escape above?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit clumsy. Not really the ‘sporty’ type, ya know?” She can see that. Even under his big winter coat, she can sense that he’s scrawny as ever.

“I get that. So you climbed the fire escape in the dead of winter to find a friend?” Riley asks, skeptical.

“Yup.”

“And instead of taking the normal route—you know, through a front door—you decided to go through their window?” The guy shrugs.

“We’re unconventional. Welcome to my world.” Riley should be annoyed that he’s making her freeze to death by sticking her head out the window, but she’s not. She’s merely . . . _intrigued_.

“So, Mr. Unconventional,” she begins, but the guy cuts her off.

“Farkle Minkus.” She blinks a moment, trying to decipher what he said before settling on,

“Gesundheit.”

“No, really. That’s my name, Farkle Minkus. My friend, who at this point I’m starting to question his existence at this building, is Zay Babineaux.”

“Hm, sounds fake. Is this a robbery?” He straightens up to his full height, his (adorably-mittened) hands up in surrender.

“No, no, I swear! I’m not a robber, just a strange citizen!”

“So your name, honest to God, is Farkle Minkus?” He nods his head in response. “And your friend, who I guess lives a floor or two below me, is named . . . Zay Babineaux?”

“That’s us!” Riley needs to get out of the cold before the frostbite fries her brain any further.

“Where do you even live?” Farkle turns around towards the other building, hand on his forehead as he looks around through the thick blanket of falling snowflakes.

“Right over there,” he points to the window right across from her. He turns back around, eyes full of bright surprise. “Hey, wait a minute. We’re window neighbors!” Riley crosses her arms, her brow furrowing.

“No, you and I are definitely _not_. I think I know my window neighbor. That’s Ms. Mulaney, the old lady with a billion cats.” Farkle shakes his head.

“Nope! She moved to a home recently. That apartment has been mine for a month now,” he grins. Riley’s floored by this. They’ve lived right across from each other, a window-pane away. How could they not have noticed each other by now? She really needs to start paying more attention.

“This fire escape is about to become yours, too, if you stand out here any longer.” Farkle raises an eyebrow.

“You hitting on me?” At this point, Riley can’t tell whether her cheeks are burning from the cold air or if she’s blushing, but she doesn’t want to find out.

“Goodbye, Farkle!” she says with a wave, pulling herself back inside to the warmth of her cozy one-bedroom apartment. Before she can shut the window, he’s right in front of her, close enough for her to get a whiff of his none-too-overbearing cologne.

“Wait a minute, can you please let me in? I don’t want to have to stay out in the cold any longer than I have.”

“And whose fault is _that_?” Farkle shrugs.

“Probably yours. Now scooch.”

Riley sighs and gives in, allowing him inside her apartment. He stretches through, and the first thing Riley notices is how _tall_ he is. And she’s been tall and gangly her whole life! The second thing is that he is tracking snow inside to her recently steam-cleaned carpets, but she’s gotten to the point where she’s habituated enough to the crazy situation that Superman could fly through her window and she’d simply roll her eyes.

“Alright, this has been a blast, but I need some _me_ time. To the door!” Riley urges, pushing Farkle along in front of her. He stops her at the door, turning to face her, gaze level with hers.

“You know, you could come hang out with me and Zay. Tonight is “Zombie Night”. We’re gonna be watching _The Walking Dead_ and playing _Left For Dead_ all night long!” he exclaims, smiling brightly.

“Hmm, tempting offer, but tonight is “Rileytown”, party of one,” she says, guiding him to the side so she can open the door. “Now, the elevator is down the hall to the left, and Zay should be on the third floor.” Before she can boot him out for good, he catches her wrist.

“Wait a minute, I told you my name but you never told me yours.”

“That is a correct statement,” she notes, crossing her arms. “Your point?”

“You and I won’t be able to ignore each other now, especially now that I know we’re window neighbors. So what’s your name?” Riley considers something for a moment, only a moment, giving him his answer afterward.

“Riley Matthews.” Farkle releases her wrist, taking his mittens off and stuffing them in his jacket pockets. He extends a now-bare hand for a handshake, one that she is quick to accept.

“Nice to meet you, Riley Matthews. It’ll be a pleasure to see you in the near future,” he tells her with a grin, relinquishing her grip and making headway down the hall. Riley watches him until he disappears, closing her door securely behind her once she’s back inside.

She plops down onto the couch with a sigh, letting her mind become hyper-aware of the quiet.

It’s a lot lonelier now that he’s gone, she speculates, but doesn’t read into it further.

Farkle Minkus is just a mystery she’ll have to unwrap one layer at a time.

 

//

 

Riley almost (read: _almost_ ) forgets Farkle exists, because she hasn’t seen him since the day he crashed on her fire escape and pushed his way through her life. It isn’t her fault, really; the snow fall has been _awful_ this winter, and although she’s lived in New York her entire life, even _she_ can’t stand to go outside.

So one day early January, when it does clear up somewhat and all that’s there is sticky condensation hanging in the air and clinging to her breath, Farkle makes his grand appearance once again.

This time he’s hanging a Christmas tree off the ledge of his _own_ fire escape. Riley would like to know if he’s certified insane, because most people walk their own damn Christmas trees down to the trash like normal human beings. She _has_ to step outside and understand why he’s performing such an outrageous task.

“Farkle,” she says, stepping onto the metal outside her window, her hands buried in the pea coat she’s bundled up in, “What in the name of the good Lord Almighty are you doing out here?!”

“Uhm,” is Farkle’s one-worded (if you can even consider “uhm” a word) response. He stares at the tree in his hands before his eyes meet back up with hers, confusion apparent upon his face. “Christmas tree?”

He’s just 100% certified idiot, that’s for sure.

“Neither of those are coherent responses,” Riley points out, but Farkle doesn’t seem to care. His eyes look upward as if he’s contemplating, flickering back and forth with thought.

“Okay, so get this,” he starts when he decides upon an appropriate response, “Zay said that if I drop my tree from up here, it would land upright in the trashcan.” Riley blinks once, then twice, then rests her forehead in her palm.

“Are you an _idiot_?”

“Nope, I’m a genius! Wanna see the paper?” Oh god, he’s not joking. “I’m not sure about Zay’s genius standing, but I figure--why not test it out? The worst thing that can happen is it hits the asphalt in the alley below.”

“ _No_ , the worst thing that can happen is the tree drops on an unsuspecting victim!” she exclaims. “We don’t need a dead body down here, no siree!”

“What, have you been watching too much Law and Order: SVU?” Farkle jokes. Riley turns away, her cheeks heating up.

“That’s beside the point,” she mumbles. “Now are you gonna drop the tree or what?”

“Right, Operation: Tree Drop. Let’s go.”

She watches as Farkle counts under his breath, releasing the tree on “ _three_ ”.

One second, she’s sure it’s going to fall to shit in the alleyway.

Two seconds, she’s _positive_ it’s going to fall to shit in the alleyway.

Three seconds, and . . . it lands—perfectly upright, ready to be taken away by the garbage truck the next day.

She looks back up at Farkle, who’s practically gushing from the excitement that his experiment was a success. Riley smirks at him, proud that he was able to accomplish what she thought was impossible.

“Thank you, thank you! I’d like to thank the academy for preparing me for this day, Zay for insisting I try this experiment out, and Riley . . . thanks for watching.” He takes a theatrical bow, waving his hand around aristocratically. Riley giggles at the ridiculousness of it all, but admires his zest for life. She’d forgotten hers a while ago, and he’s starting to shine the light back upon it.

“You stay strange, Farkle Minkus,” she says, breathless, “And I’ll see you around.”

 

//

 

“Okay, so what are we doing for dinner here tonight? Papa’s gotta eat!”

Riley nearly jumps out of her pants when Farkle pops in through her window, swinging inside with grace akin to an acrobat, a comparison that hardly fits his archetype, especially considering that the first time she met him he had crash-landed onto her fire escape.  

“What the heck are you doing?!” she shouts, flailing her arms in the air.

“Hanging out with you, what does it look like?” Farkle deadpans, too nonchalant about his breaking-and-entering.

“You can’t just climb into people’s windows unannounced!!” she exclaims, bewildered by his boldness.

“But I didn’t.”

“Um, _yeah_ , I’m pretty sure you just did.”

“Nuh-uh. I announced my presence as I came inside. I’m civilized, I promise.”

Is he _trying_ to push every last one of her buttons? Riley Matthews has never had an outburst in her life, but Farkle certainly is testing her limit.

“So you just crawl into people’s windows?!”

“Yup. Zay’s and now _yours_. You should feel special. I don’t just crawl into any window all willy nilly.” Riley thins her lips, unamused.

“Yeah, ‘special’ is not what I’m feeling at the moment. But whatever, I guess you’re invited to my house tonight for dinner since you won’t be leaving any time soon, apparently,” she sighs, giving in. Really, it’s her fault for not expecting something like this. He is, after all, Farkle Minkus—the strangest boy she’s ever become acquainted with, a boy who takes the whole “window neighbor” thing a little too seriously.

“Great! What’s for dinner tonight? Like I said, Papa’s starving!” he exclaims. Riley’s hands move to her hips, her brow shooting into her forehead.

“Excuse me? What do I look like, a maid? Don’t be a pig and get up off your butt. You’re gonna help me cook, too.” She makes a “come hither” motion with her index finger, leading him off to her kitchen. Farkle follows behind dutifully, not uttering a single complaint.

“Alright, mon petit maître cuisiner. What are we making?”

“I’m glad you asked, sous chef Minkus,” Riley says, finding her hook with her aprons, taking one for herself and giving Farkle the other. “We are making pad Thai”

“Do I have to wear one of these frilly aprons?”

“ _Yes_.”

Riley likes Farkle. He treats her like he’s known her his whole life, and he respects her opinion above all else. He laughs at all her jokes genuinely (they’re terrible, even _she_ knows it, but he laughs all the same), and eats every bit of the pad Thai he helps her cook even though he hates peanuts. Farkle astounds Riley, because she’s never met anyone so earnest her entire life.

By the time he bids her adieu for the night, Riley practically _begs_ for him to stay longer. She’s not sure if it’s because she’s lonely or if there’s another underlying reason, but she doesn’t care. Riley wants to hang out with Farkle of her own volition, wants to be his friend above all else.

“Okay, but consider this before you jump out my window,” she says, “Watch a movie?” Farkle pauses mid-sticking his foot out the frame to turn towards her, his eyes lighting up impishly.

“. . .What movie?” She holds up the two DVDs that she’d been meaning to watch from her coffee table for him to see.

“ _Pacific Rim_ or _Jackie Brown_?”

“ _Pacific Rim_ and _Jackie Brown_? Count me in!” he exclaims, pulling his leg back inside. Riley lets out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in, glad (although she’s not sure why) he didn’t recline the offer. She watches as he plops back down onto the couch, patting the spot beside him. “So we gonna watch a movie or not?”

“Yeah, your pick.” Farkle contemplates the decision for a moment before coming up with his choice.

“Tarantino’s pretty awesome, but I’m feeling up for Guillermo del Toro. _Pacific Rim_ really is just the best, and even though its inaccurate, it _does_ have science-y stuff in it!” Riley snorts at his reasons for his choice but obliges nonetheless, popping _Pacific Rim_ into the DVD player before taking a seat next to Farkle on the couch. As the trailers play, she turns towards Farkle, who is seemingly engrossed in the lit up screen.

“Hey, Farkle?” she catches his attention. He doesn’t seem too committed to the television, though, his gaze planting on hers in a flash.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for crashing on my fire escape.” He gives her a crooked smirk, one that she must admit is adorable.

“No problem, Riley. I’m glad I crashed on it in the first place.”

Farkle Minkus is a good friend, indeed.

 

//

 

Farkle pops in through her window much more frequently as the winter months draw to a close, the amount of snow hanging around growing less and less each week. Riley doesn’t even mind it anymore, but rather expects him to. He gains frequent window miles by the amount of times he clambers in ( _“Hey, Riley, do you have any cumin?” “Hey Riley, do you want to play Mario Kart?”_ ), but it doesn’t even matter to her. Farkle becomes part of her life whether she wanted him to in the first place or not, and she does the same for him.

But she also forgets his window habits during important things, like when she invites her best friend over for a visit to her apartment.

“Hey,” Farkle announces himself, not even noticing the new addition to her house. Her best friend, Maya, whips her head around at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening in surprise. “Whoops, didn’t know you had someone over. Hello, other lady,” he says in a sultry tone, winking at Maya. Riley rolls her eyes but doesn’t pay him any heed, shrugging off his presence as she usually does.

“Ah, hello, _Window Boy_. Riley, did you know you have a window boy? Because I did _not_ know you had a window boy. When did men start crawling through your window, and can I get the same subscription you have?” She flicks her gaze back over to Farkle, smiling that Maya smile that only means trouble. “Better yet, Window Boy, you got any more window friends you’re hiding?” Farkle chuckles, sitting down next to Maya on the comfy bench by the bay window.

“Oh, you’re the infamous Maya! I see the whole sarcasm thing you were mentioning, Riley.”

“Riley mentioned me to you? I’m flattered, Riles.” Riley smiles shrugging her shoulders.

“You’re important to me.”

“Hm, this doesn’t look good for you, Window Boy. Riley’s never mentioned you.” Farkle extends a hand towards Maya, introducing himself.

“Farkle Minkus, at your service.” As Maya shakes his hand she turns towards Riley, her jaw dropping with realization.

“Wait a minute, Farkle Minkus? _Boy_ , are you in luck, because she _has_ mentioned you. Looks like the odds are in your favor, Window Boy.” Riley smacks her friend on the arm, the blush creeping on her face becoming more and more noticeable by the second.

“ _Maya!_ ” she exclaims, but Farkle doesn’t seem to get the implication Maya was making. Sometimes Riley is glad that he’s so blissfully unaware of the world.

“So, _Ladies_ , what are we getting up to today?”

“Does he have to be a part of our day?” Maya whispers to Riley, still loud enough for Farkle to hear.

“I don’t know. Do you care if he is?” Maya watches Riley for a long time, searching for something in her eyes before responding.

“ _Ohhhh_ , I see it, Matthews.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to be coy, but if you really don’t know, then that’s for you to figure out.” Riley remains puzzled by her best friend’s words. What is she supposed to figure out, exactly? And how can Maya possibly read her like a book, when she’s still not sure of what she wants to do the next day and the day after that?

“So what am I supposed to figure out?” Maya pats her arm sympathetically.

“You’ll find out soon enough, trust me. But for now, sure. Let’s let Window Boy stay. Heck, I’ll even let him invite his window buddies if he wants.”

“Ooo, does this mean I get to finally meet Zay?!” Riley claps, excited. Farkle laughs, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

“Sure does. He’s been dying to meet you, too!”

Turns out, Farkle has lots of friends.

Riley has to admit, she’s a little jealous. While making friends is something that’s always come naturally to her, moving out in her own apartment in New York has kept her a little closed off from the world, and working at a newspaper doesn’t give her much time to talk with her colleagues. She’s always writing interest pieces on the world around her, spending too much time on strangers rather than the people she knows.

. . . But Farkle’s friends are _amazing._

Zay Babineaux is the first person she meets, and he’s just as eager to meet her as she is him. He’s humorous, not like Farkle in that he’s awkward and endearingly strange, but because humor is second nature to him. He doesn’t laugh at all her jokes like Farkle does, but she doesn’t mind it one bit. Instead, she laughs at his to the point of doubling over.

Then there’s Lucas Friar. He’s a charming southern gentleman from Texas, who knew Zay before Farkle even knew Zay. He’s polite and calls her, “ma’am”, and every time she’s in the same space as him it feels as if the air around her is constricting. Lucas is very good at making the atmosphere pleasurable, and Riley doesn’t mind spending an ungodly amount of time with him.

Maya, on the other hand . . . she _abhors_ him.

She teases him and calls him names like “Huckleberry” and “Ranger Rick”, and Lucas surprisingly takes it like a champ. Riley literally has to pry her off his back as she attacks him when he’s leaving, and Riley has to wonder what it is about him that incites this behavior in her best friend.

Zay leaves alongside Lucas, departing with a wave, and Maya leaves not too long after.

“Your friends aren’t too bad, Minkus,” she says, “And neither are you. See ya later, Riles.”

“Bye, Peaches,” Riley bids her farewell, closing the door shut when she’s gone. Farkle stands in place, his thumbs up and a wide grin on his face.

“I did good?” Riley nods.

“You did good, Farkle. Your friends are pretty fantastic. Zay is definitely someone you climb down a frozen fire escape for.” Farkle laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Nope, not in your lifetime, Minkus.”

 

//

 

Riley’s not much of a nighttime person, enjoying every bit of sleep she can get so that she’ll be refreshed and ready for the day when she rises in the morning.

So having someone knock at her bay window at two in the morning is definitely not something she wants to occur. Of course, she could’ve locked the bay window, but she made a promise to Farkle that it’d always be open for him.

He takes that literally.

“What the _hell_ , Farkle?!” she whispers harshly to him when she meets him at the window.

“Sorry, were you asleep?” That boggles Riley’s mind. Most people _are_ asleep at two in the morning, especially if they are rational and not cuckoo-bananas insane. But Farkle has on more than one occasion proven to not be most people, so Riley allows it.

“Yeah, a bit,” she mumbles, rubbing at her eyes. “What do you want?”

“Let’s do something a little different tonight, Riley,” Farkle says softly from behind the frame of the window.” She arches her brow.

“Oh yeah? What do you propose we do at two in the morning?” Farkle extends his hand out to her, waiting until she grasps it with tiny fingers. Riley does such, because in all honesty, she’s a pushover for him. It’s hard to say no when he looks at her with those azure eyes of his, gaze boring a hole into her heart.

“Follow me and you’ll see.” So she does.

Farkle leads her onto the fire escape, tugging her along up the metal stairs. It’s a few more floors up to the roof, and she almost tires out, but her curiosity gets the best of her, allowing her to endure the rest of the way up.

They finally reach the top and Farkle’s fingers remain intertwined with hers, pulling her to the middle of the roof. Riley gapes at the view of the city—it’s simply breathtaking, all the lights aglow, showcasing New York in a halo of glamour.

“Did you want to show me the city? It’s gorgeous,” Riley tells him, but Farkle shakes his head.

“No, that’s not why I brought you up here.”

“Then why did you bring me up here?”

He points to the ground where a fleece blanket lies, and Riley gives him a look, but he ignores it, guiding her to lay down on the blanket beside him.

“We’re going to watch the night sky tonight, and see the stars,” he explains. “Just look up with me.”

Riley relaxes next to him, her eyes trained on the sky above them. She knows nothing of stars and the constellations, but she loves space nonetheless. It’s huge and vast and wonderful, and she feels it within her gut that she’ll be up there some day.

“What do you see, Riley?” Farkle asks her a moment later after giving her some time to just watch.

“Tiny little specks of light? The moon? I don’t know, Farkle. I’m not the genius here.” Farkle chuckles, his hand wrapping around hers. Riley feels her heart jumpstart at the action—she’s not quite sure why. It’s Farkle, her friend, her window neighbor; she’s held his hand before, even let him all the way up to the roof, but this is different. Under the night sky, the city still bustling below them but not managing to reach their ears, she’s totally and utterly calm, peaceful as ever.

“That, right there,” he begins, picking up her hand and helping point her index finger in the direction he’s referring to, “Is Orion, my favorite constellation.”

“I still can’t see it,” Riley says, squinting her eyes.

“See that row of stars?” She looks and looks until she spots it, nodding her head. “That’s Orion’s belt. If you can find that, then you can find Orion.” He swirls her hand around to show her the rest of the constellation, and she can’t help but be mesmerized. It’s amazing to see the stars in the sky, but to be able to group them and name them?

It’s incredible.

“Alright, now tell me, Mr. Fancy-Pants Scientist. What’s that bright one up there?” she points.

“Easy-peasy. That’s Mars, the best planet out there.” Riley turns her face towards him, pouting.

“That’s _definitely_ not the best planet out there.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me, Riley Matthews—what, pray tell, do you think is the best planet out there?” Riley clicks her tongue.

“Pluto, obviously.” Farkle stares at her a moment before erupting into a peal of laughter, his hands clutching his stomach and his eyes watering at the rims. Riley stares back vehemently, her brows furrowed and eyes narrowed.

“ _Pluto?!_ That’s your pick? Riley, you _are_ funny! Pluto’s not a planet!!” He almost continues laughing for a good minute more, but then his eyes land on Riley’s and he has a moment of revelation. “Oh god, you’re not kidding.”

“ _No_ , I am _not_ kidding. Pluto is my favorite planet. Always has been, always will be, despite what scientists might say. I like Pluto.” Farkle watches her even closer than the stars, trying to comprehend her answer.

“Why?” _Why?_ That is an interesting question, and something she really has to think about. Why Pluto? But then again, why not?

“Because,” she starts, “It’s always been the odd one out, different from the others. It’s small and has a different ellipse from the others, and it’s left out, forgotten. It shows its heart to everybody, and all it gets is pushed away.”

“I see,” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows. The atmosphere around them becomes thicker after her admission, and even she knows Farkle understood exactly what she meant. He grips her hand as tight as he can without crushing it, then turns to her with a gentle smile on his face. “You’ll never be forgotten, Riley Matthews. You’re the most important person I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you, Farkle,” she hums, her eyes fluttering shut, her head leaning onto his shoulder. Then she whispers something, not loud enough for him to hear, but loud enough that her heart reels from the epiphany.

“ _You’re the most important person I’ve met, too, Farkle Minkus_.”

 

//

 

The days pass slowly by, but the seasons change noticeably through her view of the city as the sun peers through her window and the trees grow a vivid, crisp green. Riley no longer has to grab a jacket when she leaves her house, and she can’t help but be bright and chipper every day. Summer remains her favorite time of year, and she’s never been more glad for it to come around.

Working at the newspaper becomes overbearing for her, not giving her much time at home especially after she gets a promotion to move from single-subject-focused columns to interest pieces on whatever topic she desires. It’s a dream come true, one step closer to her running her own paper one day, and she rushes home after she gets the good news.

Riley waits on the bench at her bay window for Farkle to appear as he always does, his grin lively and inviting. They’ve become accustomed to just talking through the windows now since they’ve both become busy for daily visits. They both have a designated time to talk—five in the evening, when the sun is still high in the sky and the air less stifling so that they can enjoy their talks with each other.

She becomes disappointed when three hours have passed and he doesn’t appear.

It’s okay though; she gets it, he’s busy, too. He told her what his job was, a chemical engineer at a nearby plant, and she immediately understood his situation. It doesn’t surprise her in the least that that’s what his job title is, because she wouldn’t expect any less of him.

Riley goes to bed that night, her heart a little heavy, but her head still high in the clouds.

 

//

 

As days become weeks, Riley decides that it is most definitely not that Farkle has been busy at the plant, but that something else is happening.

She doesn’t want to expect the worst; she knows that if her mind wanders to dark places, it’ll be hard to pull herself out. So she chooses to remain optimistic—maybe he had a work retreat that came up suddenly and had no time to tell her. Maybe he went to visit family on a whim and was taking a while to come back.

Riley could make up a million “maybes” in her mind, but that will only get her so far. Instead, she visits Zay for answers, because even if Farkle didn’t tell her, she’s sure that he would’ve at least informed his best friend of his circumstances.

She reaches Zay’s door and knocks four times, rocking back and forth on her heels as she waits, the nervous energy building up inside her. He opens the door almost ten seconds later, and when she sees him, he’s a sight for sore eyes—he’s tired as ever, his eyes bloodshot and dark bags hanging under his eyes. The mirthfulness usually in his gaze seems dimmer than ever, as if the humor he held before was gone.

“Riley?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes. “What’s up with you?”

“I was wondering if you could tell me where Farkle is. See, he and I usually have talks in our windows at five in the evening, but he hasn’t been there in three weeks. I just wanted to make sure he’s okay.” His eyes shoot wide open, brows furrowing and the corners of his mouth turning downward.

“ _Oh_ , Riley. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you! I’ve just been running all over the place, and Lucas has been out of Texas and can’t help me and—”

“Zay, slow down!” Riley urges him, placing her hands onto his shoulder. “What’s up with Farkle?” He stares at her a moment, his mouth drawn into a tight line until he utters the answer aloud.

“Farkle was in an accident.” That sets Riley off. Her heart sinks like the Titanic in her chest, and the Mona Lisa smile plastered on her face disappears from sight.

“He . . . _what?_ ”

“He was in an accident, Riley. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, it’s been hectic being the only person in the area he directly knew to take care of him. I wanted to let you know, I swear.”

“It’s . . . alright,” she mutters, but her head feels light and her limbs and torso and just— _everywhere_ —feels detached from the world around. “H-how is he?”

“Bad, Riles,” Zay admits, his eyes dark. “He’s not doing too well. Farkle’s been in a coma since he got out of surgery two weeks ago.” Riley’s throat closes in on her, her eyes brimming with tears.

Farkle . . . is _dying_. Farkle’s been on his death bed for two weeks, and she’s been running around without a care, pretending like nothing’s wrong. What the hell is wrong with her? Why didn’t she ask earlier? Didn’t she care enough about him?!

“Riley, do you want some water? I think you should sit down. I’ll get you a blanket, as well.” Riley nods her head, but no words escape her mouth. Zay leads her into his apartment and onto his couch, letting her take a seat while he grabs a blanket and a glass of water for her.

When Zay finally does return, he sets the glass on the table and wraps the blanket around her, sitting beside her on the couch. She mumbles, _“What type of injuries?”_ , but spaces out as Zay explains, only a few words catching her attention, such as “internal bleeding” and “broken ribs” and “brain damage”. All she can do is continue to nod in response, and as the sky darkens outside his window, he offers to let her stay the night on his couch.

She says yes, but gets absolutely no sleep that night.

...

The next day, Zay takes her to see Farkle.

Riley’s on edge, doesn’t know if she can keep it together. She doesn’t know how to act when someone she knows is in a hospital, especially if that someone is in a coma. He’s unresponsive, so what good would it do her to visit him?

Zay tells her what the doctor said—having familiar people around him is a good thing. The more familiar voices around, the easier it can be to recover. Even talking to a coma patient despite them not being conscious helps, and telling stories of events that happened while they were conscious can speed up the recovery rate. It also is good for the people around them who feel helpless, just like Zay and just like her.

They arrive at the hospital at eleven in the morning, walking up to the help desk for passes to Farkle’s room. The lady at the desk hands them to both of them, giving them the room number. Zay walks Riley over to the room, but when they are outside the door, stops her before going in.

“Riley, I want you to have some alone time with him, okay? I’m sure he’d love to hear your voice, and I know this is just as hard for you as it is for me. I’m going to get a coffee and hang out in the cafeteria, so if you need me, come find me.”

Riley allows Zay to go, watching as he disappears down the hall and around the corner. She takes a deep breath and collects her thoughts when her hand touches the metal door knob, turning it a minute later and stepping inside the room. She closes the door behind her and meets Farkle for the first time since she last saw him three weeks ago, and her heart breaks.

His eyes are shut tight, his chest moving up and down very gradually, in tune with the beeping of the EKG beside his bedside. The heavy, distinct stench of disinfectant fills her nostrils and churns her stomach, but she remains inside. She needs to do this. She _has_ to do this.

Riley approaches Farkle’s bedside slowly, her feet inching forward. She holds her breath because even though the EKG says he’s alive, even if the hospital says he’s alive, having her smiling, goofy Farkle be anything but is just unreal to her. It takes every fiber in her body to not choke up, and she chews at her cheek furiously to prevent it.

She will not cry. Farkle would never let her cry tears over him, wouldn’t ever want her to worry or fuss over him. Instead, she picks up his hand, intertwining her fingers with his, trying desperately to bring warmth back to his cold, _cold_ skin.

“Hey, Farkle,” she says, managing a small smile for him. “Long time no see. I hope you’re doing okay.” _Beep. Beep. Beep._ “Zay told me that it’d be a good idea to talk to you, so here I am. Talking to you even though . . . even though you won’t say anything back.”

She pauses a long while before uttering another word. It really is too much for her to handle, and her brave face can only last for so long. Riley reaches up and pushes the ashen-blond locks of his hair out of his face, taking notice of the cuts and bruising along his forehead.

“Oh, Farkle,” she breathes, shaking her head. “You’re so stupid, you know that? Why’d you have to be so dumb and get into an accident like that? Why are you so stupid and reckless?” She grasps his hand with both of hers tightly, holding onto him like a lifeline. Like a crack in a damn, tears begin to pour down her cheeks, unable to keep them back any longer.

“Remember when you crashed onto my fire escape? That was the first time we met. You were just looking for your friend, and instead you found me. You, this strange, crazy wind that blew into my life unwarranted, something I never asked for but needed all along. And you knew somehow. You knew that I needed you and that you needed me. How could you have _possibly_ known that?” she hiccups, rubbing furiously at her eyes with the back of one of her hands.

With each passing second and each shrill beep, her mind becomes abuzz with a million thoughts, a million stories of her and Farkle together, and she realizes something, something pressing that she had ignored for so long but cannot ignore any longer, not while Farkle remains incapacitated in a hospital bed, possibly for good.

Riley loves Farkle.

She _loves_ Farkle, with every fiber of her being and every single bone in her body and the sinew that keeps her together.

. . . But she’s a day late and a dollar too short.

Her heart aches for him, and the room almost seems too claustrophobic for her to handle, but she can’t stand to be away from Farkle. She needs to stay with him for a while, enjoy his company while she can.

Even if it’s the last time she’s able to.

 

//

 

For Riley, life goes on.

She can’t stop living just because Farkle is lying in a hospital bed, unresponsive. He wouldn’t want that for her, and so she keeps going. It’s barely living, really, but it’s something, and that something she holds onto for dear life.

Work is work. She writes and writes and writes, but each attempt is bland as ever. Her trashcan in her office becomes full of crumpled-up pieces of failed articles that she just can’t seem to get right. Riley’s lost in her own head, and even her boss begins to notice her lull and drag in her work. Riley’s forced to tell him why she’s behind, and he is surprisingly empathetic to her situation.

“That happened to my first wife. She was in a coma for six months until we had to finally pull the plug. So I more than understand what you’re going through. Do me a favor, though,” he says.

“What do you want me to do?” Riley asks.

“Write about this boy. If he’s anything like my late-wife, he would want you to keep doing your work. I’m not saying you have to, but you could get inspiration from this. Write a piece about what it’s like coping while a loved one is in a hospital. Draw something from this, because I know you can, and I know you’ll feel better if you do.” Riley nods her head.

He’s right. She _can_ draw inspiration from this, and she knows exactly how to.

 

. . .

 

 

 ** _Falling In Love With Your Best Friend_** by Riley Matthews

 

Falling in love is hard nowadays. With the constant rush of daily life and the need to move place to place for whatever reason, you don’t have enough time to slow down and take in everything. You miss out on opportunities that are right in your face, screaming out at you to just _take a chance already_. In a society that focuses heavily on money and work, we don’t take a moment to recognize the good things we have in life.

For me, it was a man who dropped onto my fire escape in the dead of winter.

He was everything to me—a best friend, a confidant, a shoulder to lean on when I needed it. We met because his friend lived a floor below me, and because we were window neighbors. I didn’t know how much I would come to rely on him, and how much he would impact my life.

He showed me how to live life. He opened my eyes to new experiences, to see the world with a different set of glasses. He brightened my smile again, showed me the wonder that was the stars in the night sky, and made me happy to exist in a place full of color and liveliness. I took that all for granted, and when I realized how much he really meant to me, it was too late.

He’s in a coma right now, lying on a hospital bed, unable to wake up. He was in a car accident not too long ago, and whenever I see him, the only response I get is from a machine beeping furiously at me to tell me he’s still holding on. It’s not fair, but the world never was fair in the first place, and I was blind to the life I could’ve had.

I’m in love with my best friend, but I lost my chance before I realized I had it.

In short, I want you all to take a moment to reflect on your lives. I want you to take in everything you have, material or otherwise, and appreciate it. I want you to talk to every single person that matters to you and tell them how much they really mean to you, because if you don’t, then you’ll strike out before you knew you were up to bat.

Live each day to the fullest, and never miss out on the opportunities you get in life that grant you eternal happiness.

 

_This piece is dedicated to Farkle Minkus. Farkle Minkus, if you ever wake up from this rut you’re in, just know I’m here and I will always love you. -Riley Matthews_

 

 

//

 

It’s the beginning of fall when a couple of taps erupt from outside Riley’s bay window. She ignores it; the birds have become accustomed to attacking their reflections on the glass as of late, annoying her to no end. When the tap turns out to be a full-on knock, she rises from her bed to investigate the source of the noise. She throws open the window to investigate when the cause of the commotion appears to be nowhere in sight, and crawls onto her fire escape to see if some kids from the block are playing tricks on her.

“Hey, Riles. Long time no see.” Riley twists her head when a familiar voice calls out to her, her eyes widening.

On her porch, the prodigal son risen from the grave, is _Farkle Minkus_.

“. . . _What?_ ”

“I said, hey, Riles. Long time no see?”

Riley can’t process anything. Farkle Minkus is on her fire escape. Farkle Minkus, the love of her life who was on his deathbed in a coma is _on her fire escape!_

Before she has a second thought, she’s rushing up to him and throwing her arms around him, holding onto him for dear life.

“You’re fine,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “You’re fine and alive and awake!”

“Yeah, I guess I am. You can’t tear Farkle Minkus down!” he laughs, hugging her back just as much as her.

“I thought I was never going to see you again,” Riley sobs, her tears finally catching up with her. She doesn’t even care about crying around him—he’s there, and the tears are simply from the joy of having him beside her again.

“Whoa, are you crying over me?” Farkle asks, pulling Riley away from his chest to look at her. She nods, her lips trembling upward into a semblance of a smile.

“Somebody has to do it, you idiot.” Farkle rubs wipes a couple of stray tears from her cheeks with his thumb, cradling her face with his hands.

“I missed you,” he tells her. She tilts her head to the side, brow raising.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“I just do. I wasn’t gone completely, you know. My brain was still all there.”

“Well then I missed you, too, you goof,” she says endearingly, her hands pressing against his, leaning into his touch.

“Yeah, I guess you did. Apparently, and I’ve heard this from a very reliable source, you wrote an article dedicated to me.”

“Oh no,” Riley groans, “Please tell me you didn’t read that. It was so _sappy_.”

“How could I possibly refrain from reading that? It has a lot of valuable information in it. Did you know I’m your best friend?” he grins cheekily. Riley smacks his arm, pushing him away from her as heat rises to her face.

“Well, don’t feel too special about it. I have more than one best friend.”

“And you love me.”

 _Ah_ , there it is. He’s been beating around the bush with it, but he finally manages to let it pass his lips, and Riley wants to clam up immediately.

She wants to deny ever writing that, wants to tell him it’s far from the truth, but she _can’t_. This is it. This is the golden opportunity that she’s being offered, the second chance at letting him know how much he means to her. She really ought to take her own advice.

“Yes, I do.”

“You what?” he asks, but she knows he’s only goading her at this point. She says it anyway.

“I, Riley Matthews, am in love with you, Farkle Minkus. You have anything to say about that?”

“I do,” he whispers, taking a step closer to her so that his chest is pressed up against her. His azure eyes watch her carefully, his forehead leaning upon hers. Riley remains breathless, her gaze never leaving his.

“And what do you have to say about it, exactly?”

“I, Farkle Minkus, am in love with you, Riley Matthews,” Farkle confesses, his hands reaching back up to cup her face.

“Farkle?” Riley says.

“Yeah, Riles?”

“Kiss me already.”

So he does.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys all enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it! I just loved the idea of an au where Riley and Farkle meet by him landing on her fire escape, and I've been working at it the past few days since I've thought of it. So here it is, in full fruition, and it's definitely one of my faves!! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Insp. by Fenestration by fabulousanima (a Soul Eater fic) and Defenestration by tsarodat on tumblr (the follow up to said fic when it didn't have a very . . . satisfying ending.)


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